


i am yours (mold as you see fit)

by perrstein, QuickYoke



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: BDSM, F/F, One sided Cordelia/Chrom, One sided Robin/Sumia, and one whole serving of suffering, like not in the first chapter but we get there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perrstein/pseuds/perrstein, https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickYoke/pseuds/QuickYoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chrom and Sumia get married, Robin and Cordelia are brought together in ways neither of them could have expected. Then the arrival of the future children complicated things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i am yours (mold as you see fit)

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, the sandbox of suffering.

 

> _"Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread: remade all the time, made new."_
> 
> Ursula K. Le Guin

 

As was the Ylissan custom, a royal wedding was accompanied by three full days of festivities. The first was dedicated to ceremony and festivity -- the grand marmoreal halls of the palace draped in scarlet as far as the eye could see, banners unfurling over archways, cloaks spreading from shoulder to thigh, flowers cascading from the high vaulted ceilings to be crushed underfoot. Even the officiant overseeing the joining of hands before the altar was swaddled in red. Everyone but for the bride and groom themselves, who stood out, stark and white as bone from a wound. The second day, the happy couple secluded themselves in their private chambers at the palace, and for anyone to catch sight of them until the sun rose with the next dawn was considered incredibly bad luck. While walking the halls towards the chapel however, Libra swore he caught sight of Chrom sneaking around a corner from the kitchens with what looked like a platter of food. Turning his gaze aside, Libra tucked a smile away and pretended he hadn’t seen anything.

The third and final day was reserved purely for the revelers to recover from the previous two days. While Libra himself had obliged in a cup of heady wine, he had forgone any overindulgence and as a result when he awoke on the third day it was to find the palace and its grounds utterly barren. One or two servants swept up rose and carnation petals that lingered in corners and at the crux of staircases. A rare pageboy scurried down the corridors bearing remedies for their lords. Shaking his head in amusement, Libra continued on his way to his customary mattins.

As he crossed the grounds to the chapel however, his path took him by the stables. He had not seen a single member of the army since yesterday, when everyone had been caught up in the celebrations, the good food, the drink that flowed freely from oak casks. It seemed Cordelia truly was a woman who never tired.

She was bent over double holding up a horse’s hoof and cleaning it with a metal tool, while the horse itself flicked its tail idly. Brushing the tail aside when it fell in her face, Cordelia remained engrossed in her work. She did not notice Libra’s approach as he paused a few steps away. His eyes scanned the stables, the glossy coats of all the beasts of burden enclosed in their separate stalls. Eyebrows rising, he could tell that they had each already been groomed. Dawn had only just crested over the far horizon a few hours hence.

“As diligent as ever, I see,” he said to Cordelia in greeting.

Startled, her head snapped up. Dark circles ringed her eyes and her hair was looking more unruly and windswept than usual. When she realised who it was, the tension seemed to ebb from her shoulders, though not fully. “Good morning to you as well, Libra.”

Libra crossed his arms, resting his hands on each opposite vambrace. Within the palace grounds he did not carry his usual axe, though he could never grow accustomed to its lack of weight over his shoulder. “I don’t recall seeing you at the festivities. I know I’m hardly one who should preach -- and please forgive my rudeness -- but I believe a day of rest would do you a world of good.”

Cordelia’s brows drew down in a scowl and she turned back to her work, prying a stone from the horse’s hoof. “I’m in the mood for neither sleep nor celebration.”

Blinking in confusion at the rigid slope of her back, Libra considered taking a step closer, but reconsidered it. “May I ask what the problem seems to be?”

“You may.” Cordelia put one hoof down, then crossed over to pick up another. When the horse did not immediately offer the limb, she leaned her weight on its leg until it begrudgingly lifted its hoof. “Though you’ll find more answers in prayer than with me, I’m afraid.”

He could pry an answer from her. He excelled at that sort of thing. Most of the time people approached him with questions, seeking absolution, seeking the key to unlock faith, seeking to unburden themselves by placing the weight of their worldly troubles on his shoulders, troubles he was more than happy to carry for them. But seeing the narrow slant to Cordelia’s mouth, Libra merely gave a shallow bow. “Forgive me. I shall leave you in peace.”

As he walked away however, his feet did not carry him towards the nearby chapel. Instead he turned, skirting the edges of the palace walls towards a side entrance. It was not his position in Chrom’s army to inquire into personal affairs that did not concern him. That role was far more suited to another.

Normally Libra would have approached Sumia, knowing that she and Cordelia were childhood friends, but Sumia was occupied with her recent nuptials and Naga would return to earth in the flesh before Libra intruded on _that._ His next choice might, like many others, also be recovering from the festivities, but it was worth a try. Rounding a corner in the palace, he arrived at a heavy iron-banded door. He knocked, knuckles rasping over the wood.

“Enter.”

Libra pushed the door open and stepped forward. Inside the room was crowded with shelves of books and scrolls, heavy tomes that made the timber frames supporting them groan. Despite the fine morning outside, the curtains were drawn, revealing only a pale sliver of light that cast across a table laden with maps and inkwells, a sun-bleached raven’s skull and a bushel of tightly bound hemlock.

Fingers ink-smudged, eyes haggard, Robin sat behind the table in a chair that was draped with her heavy Plegian robes. The wine-dark dye appeared black in the dim light of the few candles spreading their pale melted wax across brass handles. She did not rise from her seat when Libra shut the door behind him, simply gesturing with the quill she had been using to write for him to take a seat opposite her across the desk. He declined with a small bow.

“My apologies for disturbing you after a long night,” Libra smiled softly over the scratching of Robin’s quill over vellum.

At that Robin let out a derisive snort of laughter, the sound somehow more self-deprecating than aimed at Libra himself. “A long few nights, more like. How can I help you this morning?”

“Far be it for me to meddle in people’s personal affairs, but I thought this pressing enough to bring to your attention.” Pausing, Libra considered how best to continue. “I have some _concerns_ about Cordelia.”

Robin’s hand stilled, nib held poised over scraped animal skin, ink pooling into a glistening black. Her eyes flicked up, and through the haze of exhaustion they somehow cut as sharply as ever. “And your first thought was of me?”

“Well, no.” Libra admitted. It was only due to years of toiling beneath the scrutiny of elder priests that he was able to resist the urge to squirm uncomfortably under Robin’s discerning, piercing stare. “But Sumia is otherwise occupied at the moment.”

The mention of the Exalt’s new bride made a flinch skitter across Robin’s features. A grimace tugged at her edges of her mouth before she could reign it in, and she leaned back in her chair, setting aside the quill. Whatever spell or tactical books she had been working on was largely ruined now, smeared with black. Suddenly she looked more tired than ever, and guilt surged through him. Libra almost backed out of the room, wanting nothing more than to leave her in peace. “Apologies. I should not have shouldered you with this burden -”

Robin waved away his concern. She had not managed to completely school her features, and she sighed. When she pinched the bridge of her nose, she left a dark streak across the skin there. “Not at all, Libra. With the Exalt being so -” her mouth twisted, “- _preoccupied,_ it is only you would come to me to sort out the matter. I will speak with Cordelia. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

The stiffness of her tone was clearly meant as a dismissal. Hesitant, fingers resting on the door handle, Libra’s gaze softened as he looked at her. “If ever you yourself need someone to talk to -” His voice trailed off, but the offer stood, sincere.

Her smile in return seemed forced, and he could tell she was lying when she said, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

 

The sunlight was biting without the thick cover of her office curtains, and not even the more remote paths through the castle could shield her entirely from it. In the time it took for Robin to locate Cordelia on the castle grounds, the sun was already long past its peak. She had checked the normal haunts where Cordelia was known for spending time, yet she was nowhere to be found in any of meticulously cared for locations. The more isolated stone halls of the castle had a tendency to carry louder sounds, and as Robin strode through those barely attended to halls, the echo of chopping wood was unusual enough to warrant investigation. It meant following a narrowing side hall through a heavy door and into an empty field behind the castle. Robin blinked reflexively under the burn of natural light, momentarily stunned as she shut the reinforced door behind her. With nothing to serve as a distraction or muffle the noise, its source became apparent as Robin’s eyes readjusted in the glare of the sun.

Cordelia stood, proud and tall, her axe glinting in the sun as she brought it down upon the section of log positioned on the stump she stood in front of. She cleaved the log cleanly in two with a flowing swing, and Robin was briefly transfixed. The way Cordelia’s muscles moved, visible by how her thin, sleeveless shift clung to her sweat soaked back was something that drew the eyes, was a work of art in itself. Robin gave herself a brief shake to break her entranced state; she had a reason for searching Cordelia out and it was not to ogle her from the shadows like some low-life cretin. Or worse, behaving like _Vaike_.

That thought was more than enough to propel Robin forward, her initial steps more of a stumble until her gait evened back out. The closer she got to Cordelia, the less her motions looked to be smooth and the more they looked mechanical and forced, and the cause of Libra’s concern became evident. There was too much force in her swings, each one meant as if to test the limits of her body. It looked like nothing of a trained knight doing her part to add to the wood supply, and everything of someone seeking to punish herself with every downward stroke. Setting her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression, Robin continued her advance even as she dreaded the conversation likely to follow.

“Do you plan on chopping enough trees to warm the castle and the barracks for the coming months, Cordelia?” Robin called, unsurprised to see the defensive tensing spreading through her back. “I imagine at this rate, the royal woodsman and his workers won't have much to do unless a crisis strikes.”

Cordelia sank her axe into the edge of the stump, and turned to face Robin fully. “I doubt that would be the case.” There was a distance in her eyes that Robin hadn't seen since the death of the Pegasus Knights, and Cordelia seemed to understand she was being studied. She attempted to shrug off Robin’s gaze with very little effect. “You don't normally seek out my presence when we’re not in the field. Has something happened?” She brushed the sweat off of her forehead with the front of her shirt, every slow movement a broadcast of her tension.

If there was ever a more obvious sign that she needed to tread carefully, she had no memory of it. “Not necessarily, no.” Robin said, hedging around the issue. She didn’t have the familiarity with Cordelia that she carried with most of the Shepherds, and it was a glaring oversight that she planned on kicking herself for later. Preferably when Cordelia wasn’t staring at her with such a concentrated effort to not give even the slightest indication of how she was feeling.

Which was more than enough of an indicator on its own, and Robin just barely suppressed the urge to smile. With that weak attempt to hide her emotions, Robin sincerely hoped Cordelia didn't count gambling card games among her hobbies.“Some concerns have been brought to my attention this morning, and I came to you so we could discuss them.”

Turning away from Robin, Cordelia hauled another log into position and pulled the axe free to rest it over her shoulder. “I see Libra took it upon himself to go to you.” She glanced over her shoulder, lips thinning as she caught sight of Robin’s raised brow. “There's nothing to discuss. I've been doing things around the grounds that needed to be seen to while everyone has been celebrating. That's all.”

The dismissal was clear, and Robin was almost as caught off guard by the finality in Cordelia’s voice as she was by the brutal strength displayed in her next chop. The strain of the past few days seemed to pile up in the face of her own inadequate handling of this situation, a situation Robin should have noticed days ago if she hadn’t been so consumed with her own troubles. Moving off to the side of Cordelia’s self-imposed work site, Robin slumped onto a higher stump and dropped her head into her hands. She coached her breathing in a struggle against the onslaught of her emotions to keep herself together. A nap before attempting to navigate this kind of battlefield might have been a better idea, but at this point Robin was entirely _sick_ of hindsight.

“I apologize for stepping where I’m unwanted.” Robin said, voice clear despite the hands covering her face. “With the wedding taking up everyone’s attentions, I’ve been working myself to the bone trying to forget the chances I had blown away without realizing it. If I had said something to her sooner, or gotten there first --” Robin cut herself off, whether she was unwilling or unable to finish the sentence hardly mattered when she was choking down regret as she was. “I had only wanted to help someone feel better, if only to feel a moment of relief for myself.”

It was only as she regained control over her raging emotions when she realized the complete silence in the clearing. This is where she should stop, where she shouldn’t reveal anything more when Cordelia clearly had her own weight to carry. But the dam had been fractured, and Cordelia’s conflicted gaze lost the cold edge it had carried earlier. “I’m supposed to be the one who has all the ideas, all the answers.” Robin mumbled into her hands. “But this time around, I honestly have no idea what to do.”

The weight of the silence was broken by the thud of the axe being placed on the stump, making Robin look up. Cordelia eased herself down so she sat on the grass next to the low stump she was perched on, leaning heavily on her knees while looking straight ahead. “Isn't it almost entirely unbearable” she said, her voice low and far from being a question. “That’s something I understand very well.”

Robin knew laughing was rude, but the bitterness and pain that had been building the past few months left it sounding closer to a sob. “Do you, now?”

“I’m in love with Chrom.” There was a resigned air to her, like that of a prisoner who’s accepted their life sentence. It was almost enough to hide her wince, and the tangled nature of her situation fully sank in.

“You… _oh_ .” Now that Robin thought about it, there had been rumors floating around about Cordelia’s affections during the campaign that she had brushed off. She had been sure that if that had been the case, Cordelia would have simply _gone_ to him. After all, she was an impressive option for a spouse, just as any of the other women among the ranks of the Shepherds. Shaking her head with a bitter smile, Robin said, “I see this is a complicated situation for us both.”

Cordelia sighed, and leaned closer so she was lightly pressed against Robin’s coat. “That might be an understatement.” She said wryly, and Robin hummed in agreement.

Glancing over, she had an up close view of the exhaustion lining Cordelia's face, how it made her shoulders sag. Even like this, Robin could not help but admire the rakish fall of her hair, the way it caught the sun and seemed to burn, the way the light illuminated her small self-deprecating smile. Silently, Robin scolded herself back to focus and sighed, “I’m afraid I’ve added to your grief, if unintentionally.” Robin rested a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder with entirely soothing intentions, only for her intent to be derailed when Cordelia turned to look up at her with something that looked a lot like _interest_ simmering in those eyes, glinting crimson before she turned aside.

“Nothing can be done for it.” Another sigh as she looked away, along with more of her sweat dampened weight leaning into Robin’s side. “They’re married, and it’s not as if we can control our feelings.” Her head bowed, something about that pose a siren’s song of its own.

Looking down on Cordelia, the peculiar urge to do _something_ to give an outlet to the temptation quickly burned through her self restraint. Giving in, Robin cautiously ran her hands through Cordelia’s wild, sweat slicked hair, not in an attempt to tame it but to simply revel in the feel of it through her fingers. A poorly masked shiver was her reward, the tension ebbing from Cordelia’s frame. It was so easy to move a hand further into her hair, to lightly drag against the sensitive skin along the back of her neck; seeing Cordelia tilt her head back into the touch and expose her throat stirred something deeply rooted in Robin. “That may be true, but if you ever need anything, you can always come to me.” She kept her tone light, entirely afraid to upset the balance of this new _thing_ that seemed to be rapidly spreading between them.

Cordelia looked at her with veiled eyes, and replied. “I just might take you up on that.” Something in her voice flickered with promise, and this time it was Robin who couldn't contain a brief shiver.

**Author's Note:**

> @Aphrodite: why did you make me so gay for Cordelia?


End file.
